


Yesterday Moments I Rememeber

by lovely_rita



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt, M/M, Multi, Roger needs a hug, Terminal Illnesses, be warned, hurt Roger, sad times ahead guys, they all need a hug tbh, this is not a happy fic, tho not yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita
Summary: Roger always wonders what the others will do when he dies.He wonders if they’ll hold a public funeral or a concert in dedication. He wonders if John will stay with the other three, or anyone at all. He wonders if Brian will sink into a depression mimicking the weeks after coming out of the hospital when the rounds of antibiotics had left him defenceless.And he wonders if Freddie, his dear Freddie, will even survive at all.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Yesterday Moments I Rememeber

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic for this fandom! I absolutely love Queen, and I couldn't not write something for them. But I'm an angsty bitch so you get another sad fic :( I hope you like it though! 
> 
> *PLEASE READ THE TAGS*  
> I can't express enough how important that is, because I don't want anyone to be triggered. This fic will get quite sad so please read with caution, and if you think there is something that can be triggering, stop reading!!!! I care about you all and I don't want someone to be hurt by my writing.  
> Anyways, please enjoy <3

It starts with a headache that lasts for weeks.

He doesn’t tell the others. Doesn’t dare in fear they’ll coddle him like he’s on death’s door.

He’s on the twenty-seventh day he wakes up with a pounding in his skull that makes him groan, rolling over into the body next to him. He doesn’t open his eyes, opting to snuggle into warm skin, feeling a hand come to stroke at his jaw.

“You alright?”

John’s voice is rough, sleep still weaving through his words and it makes Roger smile softly, opening his eyes to look at his lover.

“Peachy."

John rolls his eyes with a huff and Roger grins, leaning forward to press their lips together sweetly. John’s lips are divine against his own, especially as sleepy morning kisses are always Roger’s favourite, and he’s delighted when a hand weaves its way to sit on the dip of his bare hip bone. The pain in his head spikes but he resists the urge to flinch, instead opting to deepen the kiss, pressing their chests together in a way that makes John groan.

“What’s brought this on?” John asks when they part, his voice breathless and curious.

Roger doesn’t reply, keeping his face statued in a grin before launching forward for another kiss, feeling John giggle against his lips as they roll so Roger’s lying on top. He dives down for another, liking the way John’s hands scrape at the thin skin of his ribs.

“I hope you’re not having all the fun without us.”

They break apart, looking over to see a feigned unimpressed Freddie with a rather flushed Brian behind in the doorway.

“We would never,” Roger gasps before moving down for another giggling kiss.

He’s soon tackled to the other side, and although his head throbs in annoyance, he doesn’t complain as Freddie straddles him. Their lips meet beautifully, and Freddie grinds his hips in an almost sinful way, and Roger bucks his hips, gasping into the kiss.

They pull apart with a smile before looking over to see the other two in the middle of a heated make-out session, Brian splayed under John’s hold, their bodies moving rhythmically as John pulls tight on Brian’s curls.

“Christ,” Freddie breathes, and Roger laughs, pulling him down for another kiss. He’s always loved kissing Freddie. Just something about the way their mouths fit together so perfectly that makes him want to hold onto that feeling forever.

“I need to piss,” he says when they pull apart, ignoring Freddie’s pout as he rolls the older off his hips.

“That’s not the way you flirt, Rog.”

“Piss off,” Roger says, a smile tugging at his lips at Freddie’s laughter.

And it’s only when he stands up that he realises he’s in a lot more shit than he first thought.

He doesn’t have enough time to warn them as the pain pierces through his head, his veins filled with agony, and before he can even whimper, his eyes roll back, and he falls.

— —

“Do you think we should call an ambulance?”

The voice wakes Roger from a daze, his face scrunching at the sound of panic in Freddie’s voice.

“But he looks fine,” Brian replies, a sigh reverberating off the walls making Roger twitch and open his eyes. Through the slats of his eyelids, he sees Freddie and Brian at the end of the bed, eyes locked in earnest and a hint of desperation on Freddie’s side.

A hand presses against his cheek, soft and warm against his skin. He tilts head away from the bickering couple, landing his eyes on John. His eyes are lined red, cheeks flushed and lips pressed thin. It’s clear he’s been crying, and confusion starts to fizzle in Rogers's chest.

“Yeah, he sure looked fine when he was passed out on the floor, Brian.”

Freddie’s tone is clipped, something Roger’s heard little of in the years they’ve known each other, and it causes alarm to stir in his gut. He tries to move, but John moves to press his palm against the drummer’s sternum, and Roger doesn’t think he has the energy to wiggle out of the grip.

His head throbs, and for the first time in a week, he relents. A throaty groan pushes from his lips, snapping the attention of Brian and Freddie. The eldest two pause, eyes on him like he’s one step away from being a basket case before they’re moving onto the bed. Brian sits at his feet whilst John stirs to sit at his side so Freddie can take his place.

“You alright, dear? You’ve given us such a fright.”

Roger lets his eyes fall shut, the feeling of Freddie’s fingers gently parting his hair lulling him back into a haze.

He’s not quite sure what just happened, but by the way the boys are coddling, he guesses it was something he should be somewhat concerned about.

“What happened?”

A hand moves to draw circles on his ankle, and a sigh from above him causes his eyes to open.

“You just passed out. Went down like you’d been hit with a brick,” Brian says, keeping his eyes on his fingers tracing over Roger’s ankle bone.

They all stay silent, apart from a few stuttering breaths, and Roger sighs, moving a hand to rub at his forehead.

“I bet I scared you, huh?”

Freddie stops Roger from rubbing at his head, taking the blonde’s hand in his own with a little squeeze.

“How are you feeling?” John asks, scooting closer to Freddie to be in Roger’s eye line.

Roger guesses he could sit here and lie to them, that he’s just feeling a bit off and nothing more, but he doesn’t think it’s quite fair to keep it from them any longer.

He sighs and shuffles upwards into Freddie’s side.

“Feel like my head’s about to explode.”

“I can get you something for it?” Brian says, moving up the bed now on the other side so they’re all huddled around him, and Roger feels like he might suffocate. He lets go of Freddie’s hand and rubs at his eyes with a breath.

“That won’t work. Already tried.”

He can hear the cogs turn in their heads, and can already foresee the scolding he’s going to get.

“What do you mean?” John asks, his voice bordering on harsh in a way Roger knows means he’s getting upset. It makes him feel even worse.

“I’ve had it for a while. My head, I mean.”

There’s silence for a bit too long for Roger to think they’ve forgiven him. He closes his eyes, puffs his cheeks out with a slight wince when his head gives a powerful squeeze.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Brian asks, his voice more hurt than angry.

Roger moves to look at them, though he’s hesitant. His eyes land on Brian first, who’s eyes are fixed to the bedsheets. Then John, who’s are on the door, and Roger prays he won’t walk out. If he was in any better state, he would’ve walked out himself before any of the others had the chance. He would’ve locked himself away and given himself a chance to just breathe.

And then he looks up at Freddie, who meets his gaze. His eyes shine and Roger lifts himself into a sitting position, glad when Freddie hauls him the rest of the way up to bring him into a hug.

Roger lets himself be held, presses his face against Freddie’s chest, feels the older man’s fingers sink into his shirt.

It doesn’t take long before the others join, and Roger sniffs, tucks himself smaller against the eldest. He pauses against the shade of his collarbone, takes the time to take in the miles between them that have finally crumbled.

“I just- I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I know, my love,” Freddie replies, smooths Roger’s hair across his forehead. “I know.”

— —

Brian books him a doctors appointment the next day.

He pleas that he’s okay, that it’s nothing to worry about, but his words are dismissed as easily as they had been laid out.

“I’m not being funny Rog but we’d rather you get checked out and say your fine than you lie through your teeth because you don’t know otherwise,” Brian says as he places their teas on the coffee table, earning a quiet grumble from the blonde from where he’s situated between Freddie’s legs.

The elder man threads his fingers through his hair quietly, and Roger lets himself relax against the body behind him.

“I told you I’m-”

“Fine. We know,” Freddie sings, tapping Roger’s nose.

Roger huffs and the other two ignore him with half sighs.

He doesn’t understand the big deal now that he’s told them. It’s not like he’s dying, it’s just a head cold with a vengeance.

“I’m hungry,” he groans, changing the subject, lolls his head back against Freddie’s shoulder. Freddie kisses his cheek and a part of Roger wonders if he deserves it.

“John won’t be long. I should’ve gone with him really,” Brian says, but Freddie waves him off.

“Nonsense, dear. If John had wanted you to have come he would’ve let you.”

Roger rolls over, the sofa uncomfortably bumpy beneath him, as he moves to rest his head on Freddie’s hip, pressing his lips against the skin peeking from beneath his shirt.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” Freddie asks, his words loud in Roger’s head.

He yawns, scooting his feet up with a look towards his other partner.

“Could use some more cuddles.”

Brian’s cheeks turn a light pink, and he’s sat with them before Roger can say anything more, tucking himself neatly into the younger man’s side, hooking an arm around his waist.

Roger grimaces as his head gives a dull throb, but lets himself relax against his lovers with a content smile.

— —

Roger is a biology student. He knows that this is more than just a headache.

The doctor’s quiet, scribbling down notes after every word Roger says like it’s biblical.

“And how long has this been going on?”

His nails feel raw as he taps them against his knees.

“About a month,” Roger replies, wishing he hadn’t seen the look of annoyance on the doctors face. It makes the anger fizzle in his chest, ready to burst.

“I’m going to send you for some scans, and we’ll go from there.”

The doctor’s tone comes across bitter, and it takes a lot for Roger not to throw a fit.

It’s not what he wanted to hear, but he knows it’s probably for the best. He doesn’t want to think what else this could be, if it’s anything at all, and instead swipes the prescription from the doctor's hands with a forgotten ‘ _thank you_ ’.

— —

He doesn’t say anything to the boys for a while. Maybe because not saying anything makes it less real.

But eventually, John finds the letter hidden at the bottom of their sock draw. It was only a matter of time but the sight of the younger man with the white paper pressed between bitten fingers still causes uneasiness to stir in Roger’s gut.

“I was gonna tell you,” Roger says, but John lifts his eyebrow.

“What’s it for?”

“Just a scan. Just so they can be sure nothing’s wrong.”

John doesn’t look like he believes him, but he leaves it nonetheless, only bringing it up again to tell Freddie and Brian when they get home, who give equally as pissed off faces.

It’s only out of habit that Roger brushes away their worries. He knows it’s gonna be fine.

It has to be.

— —

Brian shifts next to him. He can feel the stares searing into the side of his head as he keeps his eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Roger.”

The doctor's voice is low, but it grates on his nerves more than it should, and Brian’s hand moves to rest on his knee, squeezing it gently.

Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think he can, and he’s glad when Brian takes over for him.

“So what does this mean now?”

The question is all Roger can think about _. Is he going to die? Will he still be able to do his job?_

The conversation around him blurs and he grasps for levity, grapples at Brian’s hand like a lifeline.

His breath is sharp, and his head thrums with every second.

He’s thankful when Brian eventually gently pulls him out of the chair and into the corridor, the world forgotten as they move into the dimly lit empty hall.

He falls against Brian when their hands fall apart, the fear of facing this alone causing him to slump in Brian’s arms, nails digging into the guitarist’s white shirt. Tears spill down his cheeks and silent sobs claw from his throat in such a harsh way that if he were in any better state, he would’ve been embarrassed. Brian holds him close, his face pressed to the drummer’s hair and his hands wrapped tightly against his waist, keeping him in his arms.

“It’ll be okay, Rog,” Brian whispers, presses a wet kiss to Roger’s forehead with a sniffle. “It’ll be okay.”

Roger’s not sure he believes him.

— —

In the few seconds between opening the front door and walking into the living room, Brian’s face must have been a picture, for the other two spring from their cuddled place on the sofa, concern itching at their faces.

“And?” John asks, his voice wavering as he clutches Freddie’s hand.

“And nothing,” Roger spits, kicking his shoes off, eyes to the floor.

The ride back home had caused Roger’s mood to turn sour, and he tosses his coat to the floor before pushing past the others to head to the kitchen.

He can hear them whispering, Brian’s words tearjerked and raw, and Roger pauses, guilt clinging to his insides. It’s not their fault he’s ill. It’s not anyone’s fault except his own. If he had just trodden on his pride and gone to the doctors weeks ago, he might not have been in this problem. But then again, the likelihood of a month doing any difference to his current condition is slim.

Footsteps pad towards him and his knuckles clench around the countertop. A hand smooths over his hunched shoulder and he tenses, something akin to a snarl tracing his lips.

“Roger, dear-”

“No,” Roger spits, bats away Freddie’s hand before spinning to look at him, ignoring the shocked look from all three of his lovers.

“No I’m fine,” he says, his voice loud enough to wake the neighbours. It causes Freddie to step back, and the genuine look of fear, whether for himself or Roger, makes the blonde quiver all the more.

“I said I’m fine and they told me I'm fine,” he seethes, chest heaving as he claws a hand across his cheek. The pain finally releases a gasp and he sways on his feet, moving his hands to pull at his scalp, squeezing his eyes shut as he dwindles with every short breath. He pulls on his hair tight, just enough force to tug out strands between his trembling fingers, breath sharp between his teeth, and then a pair of hands wrap around his waist.

He shouts, tries to squirm out of the hold but another set of hands lock him in place. He stills, chest heavy and eyes stinging and with one last tug someone frees his poor split ends from his death grip.

“No,” he says, finally opens his eyes, locking them with Freddie’s gaze. His vision’s blurry but he can tell it’s Freddie’s arms wrapped around his waist. He twists his head, teary eyes landing on John, who’s hands are pressing down on his hips, and Brian, who’s cradling his wrists, just tight enough so he can’t go back to pulling at his hair.

He turns back to Freddie, blinks tears down his cheeks, not totally appreciating the sympathetic look the dark-haired man gives.

“No,” he whimpers, his head heavy and his mind blurry.

“Darling,” Freddie whispers, presses his hand against Roger’s cheek, and it’s the catalyst to a breakdown.

Roger lets himself be held. He sobs into Freddie’s shoulder to the point his legs give way and they sink to the floor. He mewls against his lover’s shirt, though the tenseness seeps away when he feels the press of two other bodies around him, shushing him quietly.

He cries and cries until he’s wracked with dry sobs, snot and tears soaking Freddie’s shirt from where he’s mashed his face, open-mouthed cries going silent in the back of his throat.

When he finally pulls back, a string of saliva connecting him to his singer’s drowned top, he lets himself slump, the body directly behind him engulfing him in a hug. Roger breathlessly lets himself press against the chest pushed against his back, closes his eyes as a hand brushes his sweaty hair out of his face.

He hiccups, let’s his hands be taken by Brian who kisses over them carefully. The four of them squeeze together on the cramped kitchen floor, and it quickly occurs to Roger’s muddled head that John and Freddie don’t know what’s even going on. He knows Brian wouldn’t tell them without him, knows full well the older man wouldn’t do such a thing, so he worries at his lips with a sniffle when Freddie reaches up to grab a few tissues off the counter. The singer gently wipes away his tears, snot, and dried saliva from his face, kissing each cheek gently when he’s done.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde mumbles, twists his face to mash it against John’s neck.

“What for?” Brian asks, still pressing his lips to Roger’s cold fingers.

“I didn’t mean to have a bloody breakdown on you all,” he replies, or rather hiccups, muffled slightly from where he’s dug his head into John’s shoulder.

“We wouldn’t be us if we didn’t have a little drama,” Freddie says, smoothing over Roger’s messy hair with clever fingers.

Roger huffs a strangled laugh, feeling John shake under him.

“Cmon, it’s late,” Brian says, kissing Roger’s palms one last time before he stands, bending his knees a few times after them being stuck in a knelt position for so long.

“Cuddles in bed?” John asks, and Roger gives a satisfactory hum, appreciating the peck the younger man gives his cheek.

He’s pulled up gently, his legs wobbly and his head fuzzy, a hand steadying his back as he’s lead to the bedroom.

The other three climb into bed as he stands like a bewildered toddler in the doorway, a hand rubbing at his eyes as he sniffles quietly.

“Cmon, dear,” Freddie beckons from his space between the other two, and it’s all the confirmation Roger needs. He slowly crawls between them, hooks all their legs together, letting Brian’s hand shift around his waist, pressing their bodies together. John does the same to Freddie, his chin hooked over his shoulder.

“Do you wanna tell them,” Brian asks quietly, but Roger shakes his head, closes his eyes as Brian starts to relay the doctor's visit, unsure whether he wants to see their reactions.

“Cancer?”

John sounds so small, and the familiar feeling of guilt rises like bile in his throat. He has to open his eyes to stop the tears spilling out, and he blinks them away to stare at the ceiling instead.

“Yeah,” Brian breathes, fumbles around with his words as he pulls Roger in tighter. “But it’s not terminal.”

“Yet.”

Roger knows his comment was a tad more than a bit pessimistic, and he feels accountable for the hurt noises it elicits.

“It’ll be okay, Rog,” Brian tries, but Roger huffs. He doesn’t believe him.

“Can’t they do surgery?” Freddie asks, scooting a bit closer as he takes Roger’s hands.

“Nope. Won’t touch me. Apparently with it being in my head and all the only way to go about it is chemotherapy. Or radiotherapy, but I know the burns people get off them and I’d rather not.”

He knows what this means, he just wonders if the others will know how bad this will get, even if he does survive.

It goes silent for a while after that, but they gradually wrap around each other, Roger squished in the middle with his three lovers holding him close.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter :)  
> Please please please let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3  
> You can find me on Tumblr @queen-lovely-rita, and you can send in an ask request or let me know what you think.  
> Thank you for reading, stay safe and I love you all <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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